Love Makes Us Monsters

If You Must

“Inspector,” I breathed, thankful but confused as I looked at him. “No, there's no problem here. This gentleman was just leaving.” My eyes were stuck on the well-groomed man taking up my office doorframe. His steel gray eyes held my gaze. It felt like they were analyzing me, taking in any minute detail. I wondered for a moment how plainly my distress showed.

“Charlotte, please,” Nathaniel whispered with an undertone of desperation. I managed to take my sight off the Inspector to find pleading blue eyes. I felt the yearning, the craving for connection coming in waves from Nathaniel; waves that could suffocate.

“Sir, I believe the lady made her point clear. Please, see yourself out,” Daniels said vehemently.

I felt white hot anger bubbling over like a pot of water.

“I shall see you once I return to London,” Nath said, his eyes casted down. His jaw had set firmly as he clenched his hands into fists at his sides. “Then we can discuss this matter further. Good day, my dear.” Hesitantly, he turned and left, sending a glare to the Inspector as he passed.

My hands were shaking. His overwhelming emotions were smothering, to be sure. Everything he felt, he felt fully. Consumingly.

“I hope you do not mind the intrusion,” Daniels spoke finally, bringing my attention back to the present. I noted his tone was rather soft, contrary to his usual abrasiveness.

“No, on the contrary, thank you.” I cleared my throat and brushed my skirts to unruffle them. It was a distraction from how terrible those words tasted coming out of my mouth. Like vinegar. Though, it was honest; I had been grateful for his intrusion. “May I ask what brings you to my place of work? Are you delivering the notes you stole, perhaps?” I attempted to be snide. Unfortunately, I was too tired from the intake of Nathaniel’s emotions. Not to mention his bizarre proposal of marriage that threw me for a loop. I shook my head. Not the time to think about that.

“I came to ask you a few more questions.”

“Why?” I spat.

“Tying up loose ends. It will only take a moment or two. If you would not mind.”

I nodded. “If you must. I have nothing to hide. Would you mind if I sat?”

He nodded, then began looking around the office, studying as I did his that morning. Now that I thought of it, my office was as bland and unpersonal as his had been. I hadn't been able to make myself at home in the small broomcloset of a room. The furniture had been donated from a deceased investor of the Gallant newspaper.

“What do you believe is the Fowlers relation with the dead woman?” He was nonchalant as he spoke. He walked systematically around the room. Occasionally, those steel eyes would wander to me.

“Using my notes, are you? I believe she is the housekeeper the Fowlers hired once they were married a few months prior. I hadn't spoken with them since their nuptuals, as work has kept me quite busy.”

“Do they often take their housekeeper out when shopping in town?”

“If they were to get household items or certain foods, I would imagine so. The housekeeper would carry any parcels as needed for her lady. Also, she would inform their owner of what things were needed. High society and their silly way of doing things, I suppose.”

“So, why, do you think, were the Fowlers so far from their housekeeper?”

“That, I could not say.”

“Your…intuition cannot tell you, Ms. Webster?”

“That is not how my intuition works, Inspector.”

“Then explain how it works to me.”

“I simply know things. Things that end up being true. Occasionally, I feel things as well that are not my own.”

“You are a fortune teller, then?”

“Is it fortunate to know things of the dead?”

He thought that over, pondering the specifications of the words.

Yet, he gave no answer.

“Perhaps I am simply perceptive. Any other questions, Inspector?”

Daniels stood directly in front of my desk, parallel to where I sat. His gray eyes were inquisitive instead of cold. Interesting. He held my gaze as he spoke again.

“Did you kill the housekeeper?”

“Pardon...me?” I blinked at him, shocked at the question.

“Did you kill the Fowlers housekeeper yesterday morning in the alley?”

“Heavens no!” I felt like upheaving.

He was quick to move onto the next question.

“Do you know anyone who had a slight against the Fowlers?” He placed his palms flat on the desktop and leaned in. Less than an arm’s length away. He still held my gaze and I felt heat creep up my back. My lip quivered. Only for a moment. The intesity of this man was a force to be reckoned with.

“I am afraid I do not, Inspector.”

His eyes lingered on my lips, then back to my eyes and stood.

“Thank you for indulging my line of questioning. If you have any information at a later time, proceed to inform me. If you need assistance with the gentleman from earlier, feel free to call on my services as well. Until next time.” Daniels nodded as a sign of respect and lead himself out.

I could not stop myself from looking after him as he left. Despite the annoyance from our prior meetings, this time had felt different, as if there may have been a hint of attraction or chemistry. I shook my head. Poppycock. My thoughts turned to Nathaniel. His presumptuous proposal. Marry him to live a comfortable and quiet life? Utter nonsense.

Should I inquire with Reginald and Margret about anyone they may have had qualms with?

As I thought it, a movement caught my eye. Just as before, the spirit of the Fowlers housekeeper appeared. She sat on the white bench. Each detail the same as before. I committed them to memory.

“Should I ask the Fowlers if they have had issues with anyone as of late? It may help us with finding your killer,” I asked softly.

She said nothing.

Yet.

She nodded. A slight smile crossed her lips.

“Then it is decided,” I told her with a grin.